Little Journeys
by Luke In Blue
Summary: A latenight craving for pineapple leads Lilo to a surprising discovery about Uncle Jumba and Aunt Pleakley - (SLASH)


**Little Journeys  
  
By:** Fala Hamster-like! Hamster-like! Tzipori  
  
**Written:** September, 2004  
**Fandom:** Lilo and Stitch  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Genre:** Romance, Drama, Humour  
**Pairing(s):** Jumba/Pleakley (quite blatant), Nani/David (implied)  
**Warnings:** slash, talking about slash to a small child, slight fluff, brief sexuality, doctored tea, gratuitous British cuisine and further twisting already twisted slang.  
**Plot:** Your classic little-kid-catches-the-babysitter-and-boyfriend-having-fun-on-the-couch scenario.  
**Spoilers:** None, I do not think . . .  
**Dedications/Thanks:** Many, many thanks to nastyface ) for beta-ing this for me (and for writing the absolutely ace Fruit Salad). You so totally rool (as does Fruit Salad )  
**Disclaimers:** The characters in this story are not mine and I am making no profit off of this. I have borrowed them from Disney and will return them by post at great personal expense.  
**Other comments/schtuff:** Author's note at the end of the story. All I can say is, Lord love double entendres. -

**Little Journeys**

Lilo lifted her head from the pillow and blinked the world into clarity. Her room was dark. The crayons she'd been using to update Stitch's badness chart were still strewn about the floor. The abomination himself was curled up at the foot of her bed, snoring so thunderously it seemed to make her very skull vibrate.  
  
She'd awakened from a strange dream involving coconuts and a trampoline, which left her with an inexplicable hunger for pineapple. As the fuzzy smog of sleep continued to fade from her mind, Lilo recalled the bowl of sliced pineapple that had been left over from dessert. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table. It told her in luminous, green numbers that it was 11.08 PM.  
  
She began to contemplate. Nani had grown accustomed to her little sister's penchant for midnight snacking years ago, but Nani wasn't home now. She was off on a not-date with David - and his fancy hair, Lilo added to herself, smirking -- and had left Lilo in the care of Jumba and Pleakley. This was, quite obviously, the first time they'd babysat anyone. Lilo reasoned that since Pleakley had tried to serve her dinner on the floor in a dog food bowl, he probably didn't know the Pelekai midnight snack policy. And he and Jumba had been very, very insistent that she go to bed on time and stay there.  
  
Sitting up, Lilo glanced at the clock again. After a few seconds' speculation, she reasoned that her two substitute guardians were probably asleep by now and what they didn't know couldn't hurt her. She'd just have to be very quiet and take special care on that particular step which insisted upon creaking underfoot no matter how lightly one trod. She'd learned that the hard way on Christmas Eve the previous year when she'd tiptoed downstairs in an attempt to catch Santa in the act.  
  
With utmost care, Lilo slid out of bed and began to descend the stairs on tiptoe, artfully climbing onto the railing when she encountered the Evil Step and sliding the rest of the way down. A flash of a peek into the sitting room registered the blue-ish glow of the television and the dark shapes of Jumba and Pleakley silhouetted against it. Panic twanged in her heart and she made a beeline for the kitchen, not daring to look back. Once she was out of sight, she padded over to the fridge and retrieved the bowl.  
  
She wondered how she was going to get her prize to her room. Even without the burden of a bowl of fruit, she probably wouldn't be able to climb up the railing to avoid that step. What she wouldn't find out till scarcely a few seconds later was that getting half a diced pineapple upstairs without being seen would be the least of her worries.  
  
As she tiptoed out of the kitchen and past the doorway into the sitting room, she heard the sound of laboured breathing and raw curiosity turned her gaze toward the couch.  
  
What she saw brought the bowl crashing to the floor.  
  
At the noise, Pleakley yelped and lifted his head from the fleshy expanse of Jumba's throat, which he'd been vigorously nibbling at. Jumba froze in place, though only after he'd jerked his hand out from underneath the orange muumuu where it had slithered up Pleakley's leg. Both were wide-eyed, disheveled, and quietly panting in the ghostly blue light of the television. For a few horrible seconds, the three simply stared, incapable of doing anything else.  
  
I-I'm sorry! Lilo finally choked out, dropping to her knees to gather up the mess of broken glass and pineapple, purely for the sake of busying herself.  
  
Slipping into an uncharacteristic phase of lucid calm, Pleakley picked himself up off of Jumba, muttered a very stiff, very unfriendly and stalked off to their room without another word.  
  
Within the next moment, there was the creaking sound of a relieved couch as its heavy occupant removed himself and Lilo found Jumba's massive hands entering her downturned line of sight. Must not be handling broken glass, Little Girl, Jumba rumbled softly. Could cut yourself. He then began gathering up the remains of the bowl in the broad, leathery palm of his left hand.  
  
Lilo watched wordlessly as the shards of pale, transparent blue piled up on Jumba's palm. When she made a move to pick up the chunks of pineapple, Jumba motioned with his free hand to stop her. You don't have to worry about that. 626 will be more than happy to take care of it himself, I am sure. His voice was unnaturally smooth and even, as though he were on autopilot.  
  
When all of the glass had been transported from the floor to Jumba's hand, he got to his feet and headed toward the kitchen, motioning for Lilo to follow him. With a due sense of dread, Lilo obliged. En route to the kitchen, she heard the familiar clickety-click of claws on the floor. She looked back and saw Stitch had just come down the stairs, probably awakened by the noise, and was sniffing furiously at the air. He made short work of finding the pineapple carnage and all but inhaled it, making cooing noises of approval as he did.  
  
With a small smile, Lilo resumed the task of persuading her feet to carry her into the kitchen. She knew that this was going to be a very uncomfortable next couple of minutes, full of awkward silences and talks knotted with words that were so difficult to speak it was like forcing a cheese grater up your throat. She had heard horror stories about kids her age wandering downstairs late at night to find the babysitter and the boyfriend engaging in a little how's-yer-father. However, she'd never imagined it would happen to her, as Nani and David were not dating (according to Nani, anyway) and Jumba and Pleakley were hardly David and Nani, even if Pleakley seemed to be making an honest effort with Nani's clothes . . .  
  
After the glass shards had been hurled into the garbage bin, Lilo found herself seated at the table, being presented with a cup of hot water and a teabag, along with milk and sugar by Jumba. Lilo remembered then that they did in fact keep tea in the house. Jumba and Pleakley were the only ones that drank it, though most of the drinking was done by Pleakley. Lilo had a feeling that Pleakley was the only reason Jumba would ever hold with drinking tea, though he did draw the line at sipping with his pinky extended.  
  
Once he'd seen to her, Jumba poured some water for himself and dumped a teabag, milk and sugar into it. Lilo hadn't touched hers and simply watched Jumba in silence. For a few awkward seconds, he glared down at the cup. Steep, you _shëolharb_ . . .  
  
Just as Lilo was gathering her courage to speak, Jumba cast a contemplative four-eyed glance at her. After what appeared to be a brief battle of conscience, Jumba shuffled noisily over to the refrigerator and opened it, glancing once again over his shoulder as if to make sure she couldn't see what he was doing. From some anonymous location in the fridge, he produced a small hip flask and closed the door behind him. He then unscrewed the cap and poured a small portion of the flask's contents into his cup.  
  
It was through innocent curiosity that Lilo found her tongue. What's that?  
  
The bottom lid of Jumba's leftmost eye twitched before he answered cagily, Fruit punch.  
  
Brown fruit punch?  
  
Jumba said nothing, but recapped the flask rather forcefully.  
  
Lilo held out her cup hopefully. Can I have some?  
  
Certainly not! Jumba snapped, turning back to the fridge to re-hide the flask. Is not for your drinking. Once he'd shut the door, he turned round to face Lilo and she was a little surprised to see that he looked rather abashed. He stared down at his feet and muttered, Am bad enough babysitter already without giving you liq- evil genius fruit punch.  
  
I don't think you're a bad babysitter, Lilo said truthfully.  
  
Irresponsible, then, Jumba amended, but gave her a small, grateful smile and took a seat on the countertop with his cup. Dangling his legs over the edge, he looked to her rather like a child that had borrowed Jabba the Hut's body for a day.  
  
Feeling that they had at least gotten off to a good start, Lilo boldly ventured into the matter at hand. Sooo, why were you and Pleakley hugging and kissing and . . . she paused, considering her words carefully and trying not to blush. . . . And stuff.  
  
Jumba swallowed harshly at his tea. I am not certain how to answer that, exactly. He averted his eyes, speaking more to his cup than to her. I know no words for this. There are no words for this, just how I am feeling.  
  
Lilo regarded him quizzically, noting how he was looking everywhere but at her. What d'you mean?  
  
I am not sure what I mean, Jumba admitted, growing more and more uncomfortable with every word he spoke. Is nothing I can calculate, or measure ingredients for, or put on shelf to simmer, he said slowly, as if he were trying to spell it out for himself just as he was doing for Lilo. It is having no theory, so I can not explain it. Is just . . . _there_.  
  
What is? Lilo persisted.  
  
Jumba's brow lowered in contemplation. This feeling . . . he said, clearly struggling. He then happened upon a comparison and put it to use. Is like . . .When your sister hugs you, it makes you feel good, correct?  
  
Lilo wasn't sure about that. Usually the sort of hugs Nani gave were the bone-crushing thank-God-you're-alive sort that followed a narrow escape from a near-death situation. However, there were also the warm, gentle hugs that came whenever Lilo was down and needed someone who would understand. She decided to go with that and nodded in response. That's what we do. We're   
  
Jumba agreed, You are Nani's little sister and Pleakley is my little one-eyed one.   
  
But Nani and me don't do . . . some of the things that you were doing, Lilo said carefully, feeling heat creeping along her cheeks.  
  
Jumba nodded, shifting a bit where he sat. But is similar, I think. Is very good feeling. Is like . . . Heavy, warm feeling whenever he is there, but at same time, I am feeling so light, like gravity has been shut off. Is a nice feeling. Heavy, but nice. Makes me smile a lot, even just to think about him. As if to prove a point, a slight smile stretched Jumba's mouth and he hastily took another swig of his tea.  
  
Lilo seemed to remember Nani having similar musings about David, from what she'd read of her sister's diary under the covers by the light of an electric torch. However, loath as she was to apply the big -word, especially when she wasn't even sure it was applicable in the first place, her curiosity festered. But Pleakley's a he, and so are you, she said tentatively. Doesn't that . . . You know, not work?  
  
Jumba shrugged. Why would it not work? On this planet, why does boy love girl?  
  
Lilo blinked. Jumba had spared her the embarrassment of dropping the -bomb, but somehow, she wished he hadn't. It just sounded so strange coming from Doctor Jumba Jookiba, who had only ever been moved to raptures by some diabolical fetus of an experiment brewing to terrifying life over a hotplate. She shrugged and answered, I dunno . . . Because he just does, I guess.  
  
A triumphant glint entered Jumba's eye and he smiled. You see. He is not loving her just because she is girl, just like she is not loving him just because he is boy. They are loving each other just . . . because.  
  
Lilo said nothing, rather surprised by the inherent logic in this. She hadn't even thought about it that way. The idea was still a fair bit daunting, but already, she could almost hear the squeak of hinges as proverbial doors were opening in her young mind.  
  
Jumba, however, took her silence for misunderstanding. I know it is not making sense, but I really am having trouble explaining. Like I said, is not like laboratory work where everything has a theory, has a calcula-  
  
No, it's all right, Lilo broke in. I get it.  
  
Jumba blinked then nodded, satisfied and relieved. Crisis averted. He hopped off the counter and cleared the table. As he was rinsing his cup in the sink, he looked over his shoulder at Lilo, who had not moved from the table. Why are you coming downstairs anyway?  
  
Lilo then remembered her reason. I wanted some pineapple, she admitted, looking sheepish.  
  
Is that all? Jumba looked surprised as he stowed the tea pot and cups in the overhead cupboard. He then went to the fridge and briefly inspected its contents. Is no more pineapple left, but your sister seems to have bought some sort of fruit that is resembling Pleakley's head . . .  
  
That's fine, Lilo said, taking the yellow pear from him.  
  
Very good, Jumba said with a nod, then quit the kitchen, steering Lilo toward the stairs. There was a shiny spot on floor where all things pineapple had been licked off. Stitch had already disappeared upstairs. Lilo could hear him snoring even through her bedroom door from the next storey up. Jumba clicked off the television, which had been quite forgotten in stew of conflict. Now then, he said, turning back to Lilo. You should be going upstairs to sleep and definitely staying there this time. He gave her a meaningful look and added as an afterthought, Now, must try to convince my little one-eyed one to let me into bedroom . . .

The next morning, Lilo came downstairs with Stitch to find Pleakley at the stove, kitted in his favourite ruffle-trimmed apron and fixing breakfast. He heard her come in and turned, greeting her with a smile that was genuine but tired. Good morning, dear.  
  
Stitch made a noncommittal, growly morning noise and went over by the stove, plopping down right by Pleakley's feet as dogs are wont to do when the person attached to those feet is preparing food.  
  
Lilo said through a yawn, taking a seat at the table. In the same chair she had sat in last night . . . It all came back to her in a rush that made her stomach lurch. A sudden sensation of discomfort swept over her and she shyly looked up at Pleakley who had mercifully returned his attention to breakfast and was facing the other way. She then spotted the cookbook propped up on the counter and couldn't help grinning. She knew that Pleakley responded to personal conflict with excessive cooking. It was usually something wildly foreign and in very large amounts. The incidents of the previous night must have spawned this morning's menu: a full English breakfast with all of the trimmings, including black pudding, white pudding, _and_ haggis.  
  
As Pleakley was laying out his culinary menagerie upon the table, Lilo stared, open-mouthed, at the plate of bacon, fried eggs, fried bread and fried tomatoes he had set down in front of her. Before she could comment on the ratio of actual breakfast to grease, Jumba lumbered in, yawning hugely.  
  
Good morning, the large alien grumbled to the world at large, rubbing sleep out of each of his eyes in turn. He blearily looked round at the empty chairs at the table. Is big sister not back from surf-boy's yet?  
  
Pleakley was setting a bowl full of all three puddings down for Stitch who dove into it with gusto. Not yet, he answered, straightening and wiping his hands clean on the apron. Their gazes held for just a little too long, Lilo thought, before Pleakley quickly headed over to the sink and began scrubbing at the frying pan with vague ferocity. The air seemed to stretch between them. Finally, as if breaking beneath the tension, Jumba made his way over to Pleakley and embraced him from behind, causing the smaller alien to drop the pan back into the sink with a monstrous clatter. Lilo winced at the noise, but Jumba seemed oblivious, inclining his head to give Pleakley a light kiss on the cheek. Good morning, he said again and Lilo could almost feel the colour rising in Pleakley's face. he responded quietly, not turning round to face Jumba, but lightly brushing slender fingers over the large, bearlike hand that was resting over his middle.  
  
A second later, there was the dull click of the front door and the two broke apart just before Nani came in, toting an overnight bag.  
  
Morning everyone, she said pleasantly, pecking Lilo on the forehead then inquired of Jumba and Pleakley, Did everything go all right last night?  
  
It was all Lilo could do not to snort her breakfast through her nose as the pair tried to look innocent and at the same time not _too_ innocent so as not to arouse suspicion.  
  
Everything was fine, Lilo answered for them through a mouthful of fried bread, which she was now thoroughly enjoying. Nani, however, narrowed her eyes as she took a seat at the table. What _is_ this, Pleakley? she inquired darkly, inspecting a forkful of liver.  
  
Pleakley paled. Er, haggis, he answered truthfully, struggling to keep his voice at its default octave.  
  
Nani eyed him, suspicion writ large over her features. She, too, knew about the correlation between the food he prepared and his moods. Are you _sure_ nothing happened last night?  
  
Jumba unhelpfully lost hold of his fork and it fell to his plate with a clang that made him jump about a foot in the air.  
  
Nothing happened! All is well! Pleakley insisted, flapping an oven mitt as if he were trying to take off.  
  
Nani looked between him and Jumba, but before she could say anything, the timer beeped and it was Pleakley's turn to defy gravity. Oh, that'll be the bread! he shouted, scurrying over to the oven.  
  
I know what this is about, Nani said slowly, stirring her food into an unsavoury blob with her fork. Something happened between the two of you last night. She glared accusingly at Jumba.  
  
Jumba, for all that he'd been shoved into the spotlight, feigned ignorance very well. And what is making you think that?  
  
Come on, we all know perfectly well what he's like after you two have a dustup.  
  
What has this to do with it?  
  
Well, he's got a bun in the oven, hasn't he? Nani said quite innocently, though Jumba choked on his eggs and nearly had an aneurysm.  
  
Behind them, Pleakley had taken out a new loaf of homemade bread and was setting it on the rack to cool. More bread, anyone? If not, I'll just bag this and put it in the pantry, shall I?  
  
If Nani had heard him, she didn't answer but simply rested her chin on her hand and rolled her eyes. Sometimes I wonder why you put up with each other.  
  
Lilo knew the answer to that one and proudly spoke up. Because we're _ohana_ and we always forgive each other. _Ohana_ means family, and family means love. Right? She smiled at Jumba, who couldn't help but beam at her.  
  
Is true. Family means love.  
  
end.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Because I've noticed that my slang seems to bypass a lot of people ever since I moved, I should probably note the following: How's yer father is just another term that can mean anything from fooling about to having full-on sex (I've also heard it said Who's yo daddy?). Also, that when someone is described as having a bun in the oven, it means they're pregnant. That said, make of Nani's statement what you will . . . Or, should I say, what Jumba will ::snick:: - 


End file.
